


Decree 4623 - A Harry Potter 6th year AU

by edenkings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8516389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenkings/pseuds/edenkings
Summary: When the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot signed Decree 4623, targeting Muggleborn, but witches in particular they had expected a little vocal resistance, followed by resigned capitulation. What they had forgotten was that the muggleborn witches they were after all had a foot in both worlds.Hermione, assisted by Sirius Black and some muggleborn friends, kicks some serious ass.





	1. Chapter 1

** Chapter One: Happy Holidays **

It was a relatively normal morning at number 67.

At a half-past seven, all the occupants of the house were awake, if not willingly so, and all were getting ready to meet the day. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, turning the sky a fiery orange. It was cold outside, and it has snowed in the night, settling on everything in sight like a bright white powdery blanket.  By the afternoon it would be greying slush, but for now it was pristine and beautiful. Just the sort of morning one would expect at Christmas, though the big day itself was still a few days away.

If the council-man who drove slowly past whilst checking the roads had looked up, he would have noted that number 67 was a two storied brick house framed by two large oak trees as one saw it from the road. The house was surrounded by a small garden, which was well tended by a local company, and had a small pool out back, now covered up for the winter. It was by no means a mansion, but the suburb was extremely well-to-do, and the house, in both size and location just what one expects from a pair of specialist dentists who have their own practice. This house belonged to Dr. and Dr. Granger, and it being the Christmas holidays, was also home to their teenage daughter Hermione.

The Doctors Granger were getting ready for their last day at work before Christmas.  Dave Granger, being the better cook in the family, made breakfast, as his wife, Emily, collected the bits-and-bobs they needed for work, which always seemed to end up strewn around the house.  The morning game of treasure hunt was a tradition of theirs.

“Dave,” called Emily, “Why is your tie hanging off the mirror in the hallway?”

So was Dave Granger’s habit of putting things in odd places.

Upstairs, Hermione Granger snorted at her parents antics. They never seemed to get tired of their morning game, and they had done it since as far back as she could remember.

Miss Hermione Granger was not what one would call “normal”. In fact, she was a witch, complete with wand, cauldron and cat (and broomstick… not that she had told her best friends, because she certainly did _not_ enjoy flying, and definitely not those kind of stunts that Harry often seemed to pull). Seventeen-year-old Hermione was in her sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a boarding school for magical students in Scotland.

Her best friends were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, both sixteen-year-old boys, but very unalike. Harry was short and skinny, with jet-black hair. Ron was very tall, big boned and beginning to fill out. Like the rest of his family, was topped with a bright ginger mop of hair. Harry was quiet and shy, while Ron, who had had to fight for attention growing up, was more boisterous and outgoing. Harry could be very thoughtful, and Ron had a bad habit of sticking his feet in his mouth. Both boys didn't take their schoolwork seriously enough, in Hermione’s opinion. Nevertheless, they were her two best friends, and they had been ever since they had saved her from a troll at Hallowe’en in their first year at Hogwarts.

Like her, Harry was an only child, but unlike her, was an orphan, while Ron had five older brothers and a younger sister.  As well as four of Ron’s older brothers, Ron’s parents secretly belonged to the Order of the Phoenix. Indeed, Molly Weasley, now with no children at home for much of the year spent her days organising, brewing potions and performing minor healings for the Order.

Both Harry and Ron, as well as the rest of the Weasleys who were in Britain, were currently staying at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and the childhood home of Sirius Black, who was Harry’s godfather. Hermione would spend a few days with her parents, before joining her friends at number 12 for the New Year, before they all returned to Hogwarts.

She had decided to come clean about the war that was going on the night after she'd arrived home. Discussing the state of the wizarding world was... difficult. Her parents didn't live and breathe it year-round like she did, they only had letters and conversations at holidays to go by.

Which was how she'd managed to keep the truth of it from them up until her injury at the Department of Mysteries, and even then they didn't know the whole story.

But she had had to come clean about it, because as soon as Voldemort got back on his feet he'd be after her family even more than he'd been before. She wasn't just Harry's friend, she'd actually duelled with Death Eaters. And that made her a target. That made her parents targets.

 “Good morning, sweetheart,” her dad said as she entered the kitchen.

“Good morning, dad,” she replied, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

"Mind setting the table?" He asked, holding out a plate of toast.

She took it with a smile, "Sure!" and set it on the table. The Grangers tried to eat breakfast together, like they did tea. Hermione's parents, working long hours, had decided that they'd institute it as a family rule when she was young, and they'd kept it. It meant they knew what was going on in each other's lives. Because of it, Hermione had always felt comfortable talking to them. Well, with everything except the bad parts of the Wizarding world.

Of course, that was mostly to do with fear that she'd be taken away from this world of magic, but she was lucky now that she was older, that her parents always considered her wishes. They were aware that she was now considered an adult in the other world she lived in, and that in less than a year she’d be an adult in the eyes of the rest of the world, and so they treated her as such.

She took a few plates and glasses from the cupboard, setting them out. Her mother liked drinking water for breakfast (less sugar than juice, she said), while her father already had a cup of coffee. Hermione had always liked milk or juice, but since proper orange juice was rarely seen at Hogwarts, her parents now allowed her that luxury when she was home.

Hermione's mum entered the kitchen just as she set out the butter and spreads, and her father brought over the omelets he'd been making.

Conversation over breakfast was light-hearted. They spoke of Christmas and the snow and their plans for today. Her parents didn't usually speak about their patients, that and all the gory details were saved for tea.

"It's a pity you can’t really be brought home for just a weekend," her father said, munching on a piece of toast, "We'd be able to take you to the reunion if you could do that, like at St. Augustine's." That school was the local girls' school her name had originally been down for before Hogwarts.

"I know," said Hermione with genuine regret. The Granger Family Reunion happened every ten years or so, and she could recall the last one she'd been to. It had been fun. She'd played with her cousins, most of whom didn't seem to mind that she was a bookworm and more than a bit bossy. Except for the bits where (mostly distant) elderly relatives had pinched her cheeks. "I haven't seen Aunt Lisa in so long!"

Her father chuckled. "I'll tell her you miss her," he said.

Both her parents got a hug as they left for work, and Hermione went back upstairs to reply to a letter from Ginny.  
  
The Granger’s Christmas day was quiet, with only her parents and her maternal grandparents present. She didn't expect much in the way of gifts (the family weren't big gift-givers) but she did splash out to give her grandmother another (rather pricey) piece of the tea set she’d been collecting. Her grandfather got an interesting looking pocket watch that she'd seen in a small shop just off Diagon Alley back in the summer. He’d always been interested in mechanical things, and owned several watches. The owner had assured her that no traces of magic remained on it, and she'd checked it herself at Hogwarts. Her parents were easy to shop for – both had a love of books.

Leaving home only days after Christmas wasn’t easy, knowing that with a war on, this could be the last time she’d see her parents. She’d been asked in a letter from the Order to be ready to go at 10am on the 28th, but both her parents were working today, letting others at their practice have some time off for New Years. She hugged her parents goodbye before they left for work, it would be months before she saw them again.

Hestia Jones knocked on the door to Hermione's house right on schedule. Hermione had pretended that she wasn't aware of the Order guards who had watched over her house over the Christmas period, just as she had over the summer break, and she hadn't mentioned anything to her parents - nor had they said anything to her about if they knew.

She grasped Hestia’s arm, and with a crack, they disappeared.

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place looked just as it had last time she had visited, dark and foreboding. Still, she followed Hestia inside to get out of the cold, both witches being extremely careful not to wake the nasty and extremely profane portrait of Sirius Black's late, unlamented mother.

The Order was about to meet, or had just met, as there were a number of people in the house, many of whom she didn't recognise from her time here during the summer.

Molly Weasley bustled over and hugged her. "Hermione, dear! Merry Christmas!"

Hermione smiled at the woman who was in some ways a second mother. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Weasley."

"Now, the boys and Ginny are upstairs, we'll be having a small meeting, nothing important and should be done just in time for some lunch," Mrs. Weasley said. She clucked. "And you need some feeding up, I just don't know why you children don't eat enough, and you’re all too thin."

Hermione laughed. "Not all of us can eat as much as Ron and the Twins."

Mrs. Weasley hmmphed, and gestured for Hermione to go upstairs. "Those boys," she said fondly.

"Same bedrooms as before?" Hermione asked, as she put a foot on the stairs.

"Yes, yes, just the same,” and Mrs. Weasley bustled away again.

Hermione knocked on the door to the boys’ room, which was wrenched open.

“Hermione!” Harry exclaimed. She hugged both boys and Ginny. Ron went on at length about what Christmas Dinner had been, while Ginny and Harry thanked her for the gifts she’d got (muggle hairclips and some jewellery for Ginny and waiting at Hogwarts for Harry were some of their DA targets she’d charmed to dodge and retaliate – she’d been trying to branch out from heavy books and homework planners as gifts).

The days before they returned to Hogwarts mostly involved completing the holiday assignments that the boys hadn't even started on (at least Ginny had finished most of hers, except a nasty essay on ground semi-precious stones for potions that even Hermione wouldn't have wanted to write), cleaning a few more rooms out (much needed, as more Order members seemed to be staying around Grimmauld at least semi permanently), and for Hermione, spending time in the Black Family Library, reading the books that Sirius had cleared of hexes and curses.

She and Sirius could spend hours in the library reading quietly - she really did pity Sirius, even after the debacle at the ministry at the end of last year, when he'd been injured by a spell sent by his vicious Death Eater cousin, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, he was still “officially” wanted by the Ministry for the crimes he’d been accused of committing, even though the Ministry had all the evidence that it was in fact, Peter Pettigrew, who had framed Sirius for the crimes.  Because of that, he was still cooped up in Grimmauld Place, and only went out into the muggle world occasionally. Hermione thought it must be a very lonely and quite frustrating life, stuck here in a house that he hated and unable to do much to help the Order, simply because the ministry refused to admit they’d been wrong 15 years ago.

It helped in some ways, that Molly couldn't seem to be able to find the Library, as Sirius had a place to retreat to - actually the only people that could find the room at all with no difficulty were Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Tonks and Sirius himself. Even Dumbledore, the rare times that he stayed longer than an Order meeting didn't seem to be able to find the door. Snape certainly couldn't - in fact, Snape didn't seem to be able to pass beyond the kitchen and the front hall - the doors and the staircase seemed to disappear out of mind whenever Snape was in the house. Hermione rather thought it was all part of Sirius being the de-facto head of the Black Family, and being tied to the Wards on the house, but there wasn’t a lot written on the subject (being a pureblooded old family magic). Still, she was rather touched that Sirius would allow her into the Library when so few others were.

Of course, it also made her wonder what else was in the house that she didn't know about and couldn't get to. She thought about asking Sirius some time, but given the history of the Black family, maybe not.

Sirius himself had been very helpful with getting the boys to do their homework, mainly by bribing them with useful pranking spells and ideas, as well as stories about what the Marauders had done while in Hogwarts. Sometimes Remus Lupin was also dragged in, and he provided a slightly-less exaggerated perspective on things.

Before they knew it, it was the night before term started again. Mrs. Weasley, still trying to feed them all up had enlisted Ginny and Hermione, and between them they cooked an excellent meal, and the tables were near groaning with mountains of food. There was no doubt it would get eaten, as the twins, Bill and Fleur joined them, and Tonks dropped by after she finished her shift. It was a merry night, filled with tall tales and laughter. Nights like this would be few and far between with the oncoming war.

Later that night, as she packed in preparation to leave Grimmauld Place in the morning, Hermione worried about what the new year would bring. It was futile to hope that this year would continue to be quiet and peaceful.


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter Two: A Distant Rumble **

Grimmauld Place was always quiet in the early mornings, as few who lived here were early risers. So Hermione often found herself in the kitchen alone with Sirius at around 7:30am. Hermione preferred to rise early on important days like today. She had always liked to be prepared, even though she knew her trunk was packed and ready to go upstairs.  The boys seemed to think her early-bird tendencies a failing, although  they hadn’t really seen that she could quite happily sleep in too on her holidays, and that she was happy enough to be found still a-bed with a book in hand on lazy summer days. Well, maybe that last bit they’d believe.

She tiptoed down the last set of stairs and past the portrait. "Good morning, Sirius." She said as she entered the kitchen. Sirius never seemed to sleep well; even now there were dark circles under his bleary eyes and he clutched his cup of coffee tightly. He looked better, though, for the few days of company he'd had with Harry, and the twins had been by a few times in the last two days for inspiration with stuff for their joke shop.

"'Morning Hermione.' He mumbled in return.

Mrs. Weasley wasn't up yet, or at least, she hadn't come downstairs from the looks of things. Hermione made herself some toast.

“Already packed?” Sirius asked. “What about the others?”

Hermione laughed. "I don't think they’re even up yet! You know it'll be a mad rush with Ron and Harry. Harry is at least half-packed, but Ron's done nothing at all, and Ginny's still got clothes all over our room. I suppose that's the benefit of moving about so much," she mused. "I didn't really unpack here or at home."

“You know you’re always welcome here,” he said quietly.

Hermione smiled at him, “Thank you,” she said.

Sirius grinned lopsidedly, “I mean, it’s not much, and I’m sure you’d rather be anywhere else…” he trailed off and the grin disappeared. He noticed her concerned look. "Just frustrating," he said, "being stuck in this house."

She patted his arm sympathetically, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. What was there to say to a man who’d spent half his life locked up and most of that in Azkaban?

Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen then, and bustled around starting breakfast. “Hermione, dear,” she called. “Do you mind getting Ginny and the boys down for some breakfast?”

Hermione and Sirius both grimaced. “Sure, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione replied unenthusiastically.

“Good luck,” snorted Sirius.

Hermione knocked on the boys door. Getting no reply, she called out, “You’ve got five seconds, then I’m coming in.” and loudly counted down.

When she pushed open the door, Ron scrambled for a shirt, “Bloody Hell, Hermione!” he exclaimed, blushing bright red.

She raised an eyebrow. “I did knock.”

Harry was smirking faintly, “She’s got you there.”

Ignoring Ron, she addressed Harry. “Breakfast’s downstairs in about ten minutes. Think you can be ready by then?” she grinned faintly at this. Ron’s blush deepened.

Harry threw a look at the redhead, and turned back to her. “I’m sure we’ll manage,” he said.

Ginny was already heading downstairs as Hermione exited the boys room, so she followed the younger girl back down to the kitchen. It took the boys fifteen minutes to join them, but they made up for lost time, tucking into breakfast.

Conversation was more muted than usual, and Mrs. Weasley worried aloud at how the next term would be. Mr. Weasley was concerned about the things happening at the Ministry, and the Aurors were anxious about the politics happening in their department. Everyone was worried about Voldemort and the Death Eaters, no one was safe.

“You know that with everything happening, you can’t be getting into mischief like you usually do,” Mrs. Weasley was nattering at Ron and Ginny. “I don’t need to be worrying about you as well! None of this getting into trouble! You need to be leaving this to the adults!”

Sirius, sitting across from Hermione, snorted loudly. Mrs. Weasley pointedly ignored him – the two had never agreed on how much the younger people in the house, especially Harry, should be told.

Hermione personally agreed with Sirius – if they knew what the danger was, then they could prepare for it, and try their hardest to avoid it. Not that this helped, as Harry was a trouble-magnet.

She caught Sirius’ eye, and he gave her a half-nod. As Mrs Weasley turned away again to berate the boys he leaned in closer, and in an undertone said, “I think we’re on the same page here, Merlin knows what you’re going to get yourselves into if you don’t know what’s going on. I remember how things were during the first War when we were in Sixth – it was around then that the real violence started, the murders and kidnappings – but Mrs Weasley was well out of school then with a couple of children and I don’t think she realises how bad it can be.”

He paused as Mrs. Weasley turned back in disapproval, chiding them for being so serious over breakfast, “And Hermione dear, you’re far too thin, that toast is hardly enough!”

 She had to decline theoffer of seconds several times before Mrs. Weasley ‘hmmpf’ed in matronly fashion and turned away.

“After all,” Sirius said, “Here we don’t deal with Death Eaters every day, but at Hogwarts you know that there’s maybe a dozen of your classmates who are, or will be taking the Mark, and at least a quarter sympathise somewhat.”

Hermione pulled a face, “Some estimates are as high as a third – a large portion of the traditional set in Hufflepuff are coming up with some very anti-muggleborn sentiments, and there’s a fair few Traditionalist Ravenclaws too. Much as Gryffindor loves playing the moral house, I can name three who are definite supporters, and two of those from Gryffindor legacy families.”

“It’s going to be near impossible to keep you all, but particularly Harry safe,” Sirius agreed, “And I can’t think of anything else to tell you that you haven’t already heard,” and here they both rolled their eyes. “Merlin knows you’ve heard it all. But if there’s anything you need, anything Harry needs, Hermione, you let me know. Harry won’t ask, you know him, he never does!”

Hermione nodded.

“But you can for him, and if you need anything too. Use that mirror, send an owl. I’ll do what I can.”

 “Now,” said Mrs. Weasley, interrupting, as they finished up and took their dishes to the kitchen, “It’s nearly nine thirty, and we want to be gone by quarter past ten, I hope you’re all ready to go.”

The boys exchanged slightly guilty looks, and raced upstairs to pack, and Hermione followed them at a more sedate pace, retrieving her trunk. The Ministry wasn't going to provide transportation this year, but with only four students to transport and a bevy of Order members available, it was easy enough to side-along to directly to the platform. Tonks shrunk down Hermione's things, which she slipped into the pocket of her school-robes. She wore them now, because there seemed little point in changing later on the train.

Mrs. Weasley was still rushing around upstairs, frantically trying to ready the other three, as the clock in the hall flicked to a half-past ten. Only half an hour, although it wouldn't take long to get to the platform and on the train. Hermione and Tonks exchanged knowing looks, and went into the kitchen. Sirius sat chatting with Remus, but they quickly stopped and Remus took Tonks aside for a quiet chat in one corner.

Hermione grinned at Sirius. "When will those two...?" she trailed off with one eyebrow suggestively raised. That Tonks had plans for Remus Lupin was one of the worst-kept secrets in the Order.

Sirius just shrugged. "Moony's a stubborn old wolf," he said, and poured her another cup of tea.

Ginny joined them five minutes later, wearing a frustrated expression. "How do we manage this every year!"

Tonks grinned, as she and Remus rejoined them. "Practice!" She quipped, to which all laughed.

Mrs. Weasley’s shrieking echoed down the stairs, it seemed she’d seen what the time was. Hermione sighed. At a quarter-to, the boys finally clomped down the stairs, dragging their trunks.

“Everyone going to King’s Cross better be in the hall with all their belongings in one minute, or they’ll be left behind,” came Mrs. Weasley’s voice.

"I did mean that, Hermione." said Sirius quietly, as he walked her to the door. They briefly grappled with the curtains covering Mrs. Black’s portrait. "What I said this morning. Anything you need, just say so."

Touched, Hermione could only nod in thanks, before she was rushed outside, tightly grasped by Tonks. Sirius drew Harry into a tight hug goodbye, as Tonks spun on the spot and they disapparated. King's Cross flicked into view, and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny appeared  behind them only seconds later. Platform 9 3/4 was bustling, with students, and parents loudly saying their farewells for another term, owls hooting loudly, and the clatter or trolleys.

Harry popped into view with Bill, and Ron with Mr Weasley just behind them. They made their way to the train, and said their final goodbyes, just as the train's whistle sounded.

The train ride back to Hogwarts was quieter than it usually was at the beginning of the year. Unlike the start of the school year, students had the choice of using the Express to get to London, or to use other methods of transportation to travel to and from the school. Many took advantage of other options, such as Portkeys, the Floo network or Side-Along apparition with their parents to travel. As Hermione wasn't fond of Portkeys (she didn’t quite trust herself to make one yet [and besides that you needed a licence] and they were expensive to buy), and couldn't yet apparate by herself (her test was scheduled for March, though), she chose to take the Express when she returned home from her holidays. After all, her parents lived only a few hours’ drive from Kings Cross Station.

 “Hi, Hermione!” a voice chirped out from the compartment she’d just passed.

Backtracking, Hermione looked in. Yvonne Hampton waved from the window seat.

 Yvonne was a pretty seventh year girl, who Hermione had first run into during her third year. Then-fourth year Yvonne had handed the crying Hermione a handkerchief, and taken her into one of the quieter portions of the library to calm down, out of sight of any Slytherins who'd like nothing more than to kick a top-of-the-year Gryffindor muggleborn while she was down.

Hermione had spent a lot of time that year in the library - unfortunately the boys hadn't been speaking to her, what with the broomstick and rat issues. Yvonne had helped her out by directing her to the section of the library where all the best Ancient Runes books were hidden, it was a tiny alcove that was hard to get into, and even harder to spot in the first place.

Hermione had been left then with the nagging sense that she'd known Yvonne from somewhere - and she was right. Yvonne had also brought up the feeling of familiarity, and so they'd compared notes on when they could have met each other. Yvonne, it turned out, moved around a lot with her father's job. When she had been about eight, she'd moved into the same neighbourhood that Hermione lived, and they'd attended the same school, and even been in the same class for a few months (Hermione moving up a year). Both girls considered it a wonderful coincidence.

They weren't exactly friends now, and they hadn't been friends in primary school either, moving within entirely different circles (Hermione hadn't been quite friendless when she was young, but her group of friends had been small), but both were happy enough to study together now, and Yvonne had been great at helping Hermione choose what electives to drop when she'd had the problems with scheduling at the end of third year.

"How are you, Yvonne?" Hermione asked, "How was Christmas?"

Yvonne shrugged, "Fine," she said, "Mum and my brother were home, Dad was working. Met up with my penpal from Wenlock School in Diagon Alley. Got a few presents from the relatives that I can't use."

"Ah," Hermione chuckled, this was an issue quite common among the muggleborns (and some half-bloods) at Hogwarts, "What this time?"

"Oh, a music player from my aunt. And a laptop from Dad, really he should know better."

They shared a rueful grin. The inability to use complex electronics around magic was irritating and downright inconvenient. The inability to explain to extended family that you were a witch, and attended a school of magic, and that magic and electronics didn't play nicely together (and that magic always won), was equally irritating. Especially when well-meaning family bought you cellphones, digital cameras, computers or music players that you couldn't use for 9 months of the year. And even using them at home was hit and miss, any stray emotion-based burst of magic, and poof!, fried. Hermione had done just that to her parents’ computer more than once as a child. Thankfully bursts like those had become more infrequent as she grew up.

"No electronics this year for me," Hermione said, "Just awkward phone calls about what my subjects are, and how hard I’m studying for exams, and y’know, just generally how school’s going."

"Ouch!" Yvonne said, grimacing. "Yeah, I don't get those anymore," she explained, "Told the family I was going to this non-traditional tiny arts college in the middle of nowhere, and the family that don't completely disapprove aren't interested in the whole thing anyway!"

Hermione chuckled, "Nice idea, but it probably won't work for me. The whole family knows I'm academic." Then she sighed. "So I'm going to get university questions too."

"Ravenclaw did miss out on you," Yvonne said, almost regretfully, "You're what, second in the year behind Greengrass, and only because of potions, right?"

Hermione nodded. Snape could be counted on for his unfair marking, and unfortunately it had cost her top class ranking. To be fair to Daphne, though, it wasn’t like she was undeserving of it, for the girl was a straight-O student, top of the class in Astronomy and History, while they tied for Transfiguration and Charms.

Well, except for Herbology, where Neville, and, surprisingly, Millicent Bulstrode shone. Defence was Harry's best subject, and it showed, he far outstripped them all.

"Ah well, too bad," she said. "And the top sixthie Ravenclaw being Patil at fourth! Disgraceful!"

They both grinned, while some of the others in the compartment muttered. It was somewhat of a sore point to the sixth-year Ravens, and, indeed, the rest of that house that they were beaten by a Gryffindor and two Slytherins for top spot. Especially when all the other years except fourth year were topped by Ravenclaws.

"So," Hermione said, "How are NEWTS going?"

Yvonne shrugged. She was by no means top of her own year, but usually got respectable marks, if not all O's. "Eh, not being particularly crazy about studying yet or anything. Got a couple of projects, though."

Hermione nodded. The other people in the compartment were by now shuffling awkwardly, so Hermione decided she'd worn out her welcome. Seventh years seemed to get so touchy about interacting with younger years, now that they were so grown up. It didn't seem to matter that Hermione was the second-oldest in her year, and probably not much younger than them.

"Anyway, I should probably keep going, the Weasley twins might be gone, but you know what Harry and Ron are like," she said, backing out of the compartment.

Everyone groaned. Yes, Hogwarts was well acquainted with the antics of the Gryffindor trio. Harry was a known trouble magnet, although it (mostly) wasn't his fault, while Ron seemed to be capable of sticking his foot in his mouth at exactly the worst possible time. The thought that Hermione was a moderating influence, and without her they'd be worse had occurred to more than a few people.

“Alright,” Yvonne said, with a wave, “I’m sure I’ll see you in the library some time.”

“Yeah, probably.” She nodded to the others in the compartment, and left.

As there were fewer students on the train this trip, and none looked to be having any trouble, she returned to the compartment that her friends were waiting in. Luna and Neville had joined Harry at some point during the journey, and Ginny and Ron had both returned from patrolling (not that she really expected Ron to have done a particularly good job - honestly, Harry or Neville, even Dean might have been better choices for Prefect).  She could also see that the compartments next door were filled with DA members, of all houses. The Sorting Hat would be proud if it could see them.

She greeted Luna and Neville warmly, asking after Neville’s grandmother, a stern and rather intimidating woman. Luna launched into a description of her latest creation, which her father had published in the latest edition of the Quibbler.

Together, the group made up the so-called Ministry-Six, as the six of them had been involved in a skirmish with Voldemort and his Death Eaters late last year in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries, a fight which had seen all of them injured, as well as several members of the Order of the Phoenix, but no serious casualties on their side, unlike the Death Eaters who had come out much worse for wear, with  two dead and seven badly injured or captured. Voldemort himself had been badly injured in a duel with Dumbledore - and while Dumbledore had not emerged unscathed from the duel, which had destroyed the ministry's atrium, he had dealt a huge blow to the Dark Lord’s forces. Even now, Voldemort was still hiding away, believed to be somewhere in Albania again as he recovered from the injuries sustained that night.

And now that Harry's testimony regarding Voldemort's resurrection was proved to be correct, the Ministry, and the Department of Magical Law enforcement were taking things much more seriously. Several Death Eaters had been found out, and sentenced either to Azkaban, the wizarding prison, or, for the inner circle members like Rabastan Lestrange, who had been captured at the Ministry, to the Dementor's Kiss.

It hadn’t been a perfect move by the Order, because Lucius Malfoy, an extremely slippery Slytherin, and father to Draco Malfoy, a classmate of theirs, was still free and proving to be an extremely annoying thorn in the side of the “Light”. He had, however, lost quite a lot of credibility, and was having to be extremely careful about what he said and did.

As such, Draco, obviously operating on orders from his father, was keeping a low profile so far this year, with only minimal verbal insults and no attempts to hex Hermione or her friends in the corridors.

Most of the Slytherins were keeping a low profile this year, actually. That included Malfoy's henchmen, the troll-like Crabbe and Goyle, and the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson. Their other Slytherin year mates had never really been an issue as far as causing trouble for the trio, but they seemed to be quieter than they usually were.

Although it seemed good things could last only for so long, as a familiar snobbish drawl drifted in through their compartment’s open door.

"My father told me all about it at the Malfoy Yuletide Party. The Minister and several of his key staff were there, of course…" Malfoy was saying. Harry rolled his eyes, and Ron growled faintly. Hermione rather thought Malfoy was telling the truth so far - even she knew about Narcissa Malfoy's infamous Yule parties. And no doubt Ministry officials made up a significant portion of guest list, with Lucius trying to get back into favour. "…And many members of the Wizengamot."

By now Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had reached their compartment, and Malfoy peered in, smirk firmly plastered on his face. "Of course, I’m sure you know all about it, eh Potter?”

The DA members had come to see what was going on, and being used to the three Slytherins and their bullying, all present had a hand on their wands, though none were yet drawn.

"Look, Malfoy," said Eddie Carmichael, who was a tall seventh year and who easily loomed over Malfoy and his cronies, "Why don't you just piss off? You know where this is going, every time you do this. Quite frankly, it's a waste of everyone's time, so, why don't you spare yourself the humiliation and leave now?"

Of course, nothing ever ended so simply with a Malfoy involved, and several hexes were exchanged before Goyle (sporting pink hair) dragged a bloody-nosed Crabbe and a boil-covered Malfoy back in the direction of the Slytherin-infested carriage towards the back of the train.

Ron huffed. "And no doubt we'll hear all about it from Snape later," he complained.

Hermione privately agreed.

The train pulled into Hogsmeade, where they met up with other classmates who had anticipated the train's arrival. The DA piled into a group of carriages, exchanging greetings and showing off gifts. The lights of Hogwarts shone out from the clifftops,  and the chatter of students filled the air.

Later on that night, Hermione said goodbye to the boys in the common room, and wearily climbed the stairs to her dormitory. Lavender and Parvati were eagerly gossiping about all the latest new things, while Sophie was writing a letter. Fay looked to be asleep already, with the curtains to her bed drawn. Hermione thought that was an excellent idea, and as she snuggled down under the covers, one last thought came to mind. _It was good to be back at Hogwarts._


End file.
